


My life, my love, my drive

by Anonymous



Category: DCU, Joker (2019)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fix-It, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-12-27 01:17:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21110309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Arthur and Sophie's relationship through different ficlets. Each chapter is independent.Chapter 1 : Fired upChapter 2 : No more painChapter 3 : To be reliableChapter 4 : The real stuff





	1. Fired up

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm not in the mood for long fics but still daydream about shipping a lot, I needed a place to store my Arthur/Sophie ideas. First chapter is inspired by @Jokerjoaquinphoenix on tumblr who suggested Believer as a Joker song.

There is no light beside the glimmer of the TV, no noise but the background speckle of Murray Franklin. Arthur finds he doesn’t give a damn about the talk show host tonight. He’s got a lap full of his crush and it’s just him and her in her apartment, settled on her worn sofa.

“Is this okay ?”, Sophie asks, her gentle eyes gone catlike.

His breath hitches. He bobs his head silently, staring at her lips with a little irreverence, hoping that she gets the hint because he would never dare ask for fear of rejection. Even his arms stay hanging at his sides. He doesn’t understand how or why because desire is practically splitting him in the middle.

Sophie puts her hands on his frail shoulders.

“Arthur, you need to breathe.”

He furrows his brows in confusion but finally registers the way his chest is constricted. Slowly, he lets out a shuddering exhale. Sophie smirks. Arthur cannot help a fond smile that turns into a grimace when she rolls her hips against the insistent swelling he’s been ignoring ever since he entered her apartment.

He curses under his breath.

“It’s been a while, right ?”

Arthur nods. It’s almost imperceptible.

Sophie strokes his cheek then. Just like that. Unaware of how long he’s yearned for another human to touch him so. It’s not just the carnality of sex he’s been missing out on all those years. He’s been so starved for intimacy and that affectionate touch alone is a threat. Sophie is dangerous. She might just make a believer out of him.

So Arthur allows himself to believe, only for tonight. His hands skim her arms, something delicate and taunting. Sophie sighs happily, tipping her head back. Her hands catch his wrists when they reach her waist. Arthur likes that her skin is a little calloused and that she most probably weighs more than him. Even if she has the ability to make him feel like he neighbors the stars, she also grounds him to earth somewhat.

Sophie barely stifles a giggle.

His ears turn red at the realization he’s just spoken aloud.

“You’re a romantic one, love”, she says softly, and Arthur is about to reply when she takes a firm hold of his wrist and drag his hand down the small of her back then further down.

Down, down, down.

She squeezes gently when his hand finally presses against her ass.

His mouth goes sand dry at the contact. He swallows hard, still ignoring the urge to buck his hips forward.

“Still okay ?”, she asks with a mutinous smile.

“Yeah”, he hisses, “Don’t stop. _Please, don’t ever stop touching me.”_

She freezes at the sheer desperation in his voice and he shuts his eyes, convinced that, in a second, Sophie will leap out of his lap.

She does no such thing.

A sob slips past him at the feather light touch of Sophie’s lips against his. And she tastes so beautiful, something like orange blossom and spring mixed with the heady scent of tobacco. Plump, suave and tangy. He almost gets shy of his own lips, fears that they’re too thin in comparison to her supple ones.

But she sucks on his tongue hard and Arthur allows himself to experience the dream.


	2. No more pain

Arthur has been beaten up.

Sophie doesn’t want to leave him alone. Not when his eyes are swollen and the cut on his lip keeps bleeding. Not like this.

“We should go to the hospital”, she offers before gently patting his knee.

Arthur shakes his head then sinks into her sofa more.

“Don’t bother. I just need to rest”, he says and his voice sounds so small, so hollow that something tightens in her chest.

“You’re wheezing like a pressure cooker”, she counters with a small smile to give him some courage. It soon dissolves when she realizes why. Arthur probably has a broken rib.

Her breath hitches at the thought and she stands up. He looks so greatly vulnerable then, eyes open wide and alarmed. It would be much easier to clean his wounds in the bathroom but he looks too exhausted to do anything.

“You need a towel to clean up your face. I won’t be long”, she explains softly.

Arthur nods before shutting his eyes.

Sophie makes a small trip to the bathroom, gathering a face cloth and a basin full of warm water. She takes some bandages and painkillers as well. It’s the minimum necessary.

His breathing has slowed during her departure, his eyes are still closed. It’s such a strange sight to have this battered man in clown disguise in her quaint apartment. And they haven’t known each other for long, barely a month, but in the span of a few weeks, she’s become his emergency contact.

She drops her load on the coffee table then.

“C’mon. You’re gonna have to help me”, she says, brushing his elbow.

Arthur winces but still straightens as best as he can manage. Then she wets the cloth before gently cleaning his bruises. He twitches a lot but gnashes his teeth. Doesn’t complain. That makes her fond of this man even more. But deep inside, she’s torn with anger and resentment.

She knows whoever assaulted him will get away with it.

“How many ?”, she asks with a sharp tone.

Arthur searches for her face before mumbling an answer.

“Five or six, maybe. I don’t know.”

Sophie sucks her teeth then.

“Fuckin’ cowards.”

“They’re just kids, you know. They probably didn’t mean anything by that. It’s crazy out there.”

That gives her pause. She holds the cloth just above his swollen lid.

This man has been battered and abused by selfish boys in need of an adrenaline fix but he still defends them. How his big heart fits in his gangly figure, she doesn't know. 

“_Beating up people is not child’s play_”, Sophie counters with a clipped tone.

She purses her lips, wetting the cloth and rinsing it until Arthur’s face doesn’t bear any more paint or blood. Afterwards, she disappears in the kitchen to look for a small pack of ice cubes.

She hands it to him in silence and his arm trembles when he catches it. Sophie helps him putting it on his forehead, holding his hand until the trembling settles.

“Take off your shirt”, she orders more briskly than intended.

Arthur reddens immediately. Sophie rolls her eyes.

“I need to see your ribs. If there’s too much damage, I’m definitely taking you to the hospital.”

“Sophie…”

She shakes her head. “Please. Do it. I’ll help you.”

He lets out a mirthless chuckle before wincing.

“I can’t. I don’t even think I can _raise_ my arms now.”

And his body starts to shudder.

His eyes get damp before they shut again and the sight of him folding his dented body in half at yet another assault makes Sophie bring her fist to her mouth to keep from screaming.


	3. To be reliable

"Don’t ever do that again", Arthur says, putting on a stern tone though his hold on Gigi’s hand is ever so gentle as they cross the street.

It’s a typical day in October, cold and damp, yellow and ochre leaves pasting to their shoes as they pick up the pace. It already smells like rain in the air and they don’t have an umbrella. 

He wonders how Sophie will react to the two of them coming home empty handed.

She caught a bad cold four days ago and has been on bed rest ever since. She entrusted him with her groceries and her daughter but somewhat, Arthur feels like Gigi is watching over him too.

"It’s not my fault this lady really looked like a calculator !", the little girl whines. Arthur stifles a smile, wondering if that brash personality is typical among all members of the Dumond family.

"Gigi, that's not a nice thing to say. You'll see how it hurts when puberty hits for you too”, he teases.

"But she’s too old to be a teenager”, Gigi outbids, “I think she'll die very soon."

This time, Arthur cannot help but chuckle. A few bystanders give him confused looks. He doesn’t pay them any attention.

He doesn’t care that the cashier has been rude and inconsiderate, though Gigi still crunches her little face at the reminder of the short dispute. She’s a tiny little thing but so outspoken and protective, just like her mother.

Arthur halts before their building. Gigi tilts her head in confusion, loosening her hold on her bright pink backpack. He thinks of Sophie then, and mimics the way she rests her fists on her hips when she means business.

“Alright, miss. Your mama will think I’m a bad influence on you if you insult strangers like that for me”, he says.

His lack of natural authority is evident because the kid raises a skeptical brow. In the end, Arthur squats down to be on eye level with her.

“It’s really nice of you to come at my rescue, Gigi. _But you shouldn’t have to_. That doesn’t matter that some folks laugh at me. They just don’t get it when someone else is different. And it’s _my_ job to protect you and your mom now.”

And Arthur really means those words. As of now, Sophie and Gigi are the most precious things in his life. He doesn’t want to rely on their kindness. He wants to be dependable too. They deserve nothing less.

Gigi mumbles something then. He doesn’t quite catch it and asks her to repeat.

“How ?”, she asks, staring at her shoes hard.

Arthur gives a questioning hum.

“_How will you protect us _?”

He stills, mumbles the first answer that comes to mind then winces immediately after uttering it.

“I have a gun.”

Her brows pucker even more and he nervously runs a hand through his hair. The depth of his allegiance to these girls impresses even him.

He would kill for them in a heartbeat, no questions, no hesitation. This family, _his family_, gives him enough confidence to battle God himself. But Arthur figures this brand of protectiveness is too much to comprehend for an eight year old. 

“Muscles”, she says, saving him from rambling a pathetic excuse.

“What ?”

“You need muscles. Samson’s dad is really big because he eats a lot of chicken and he goes to the gym all the time. You can protect people when you have big muscles”, Gigi blurts.

Arthur blinks stupidly. The crisp touch of wheels against the asphalt breaks him out of his trance then. He takes hold of Gigi’s hand again, walking into the worn building like an automaton.

* * *

“_What in the hell are you doing_ ?”, Sophie asks him, her hand still hovering over the knob.

Arthur freezes, arms held above his head, prickly armpit hair and lanky limbs on full display. Sophie’s reflection looks curious and a little concerned in the mirror.

He tries to feign nonchalance, crossing his arms and resting his back against the sink to face her, as confident as someone wearing shabby underwear can be when someone walks on them.

Sophie enters the room, closes the door after herself. Her face is a little bloated still but colors have bounced back. It seems the medicine has kicked in good.

“_So_ ?”, she tries again.

Arthur shrugs exaggeratedly. She draws out a long, suspicious hum but steps close and resumes her routine. She takes hold of a cleanser then, sending the goblet containing both their toothbrushes tumbling. Arthur loves that he has a permanent place in her home, even if it is embodied by something as plain as a toothbrush.

He watches her scrub her face in silence, only allowing himself to speak after she rinses the product out and grabs a cloth to gently pat her face.

“Do you think I should learn how to box ?”

Sophie stills mid pat. His skin prickles at the way she looks him up and down.

“Just answer the question, please”, he says before she gets any idea to answer with a question of her own, the way she usually does. Sophie opens her mouth then closes it.

“Honestly, I don’t know where this is coming from. You’ve already had your fair share of being beaten down for free, love.”

It’s brash, cynical, and a little cruel. His nostrils flare in annoyance. He’s grateful and proud to have such a resourceful woman as a girlfriend but there are times he wants her to see him as a _man_.

He squeezes the sink with one hand.

“_I’m gonna take boxing lessons_”, he clips.

Sophie arches an eyebrow. She sighs, slowly folding the face cloth before dropping it on top of the washing basket, which is so full it looks like it actually vomits clothes. And its cover is cracked in the middle. Arthur makes a mental note to buy her a new one.

“Okay, was it Randall ?”

“What you mean ?”

“Randall. You know, your bumass colleague who has a gold medal in whispering bad ideas to people. Is it his idea ?”

“I’m a grown ass man. I can make decisions on my own”, Arthur counters, temper prickling.

Sophie holds her hands up in the air.

“Okay, okay. No need to fire shots. It just doesn’t look like you.”

“I wanna look fit.”

“Okay.”

“And I could use the bulk.”

“Mmh.”

“Even my therapist says physical exercise is important for mental health.”

“_Sure_.”

He’s about to get really pissed off when he notices her shit eating grin.

“You little…”

“Language”, she grins, drawing close to hug his neck. Arthur peers at her arm then the way her robe slides off one shoulder to reveal smooth skin the color of baked honey. He gently bites on it, giving himself a mental high five when Sophie shivers.

“Just so you know, I love you just the way you are", she says softly.

Arthur gives a noncommittal grunt.

“You’ll love me more when I get to carry you.”

Sophie pinches his ticklish sides for that. Arthur almost yelps.

“Nonsense, Mister Fleck. _But I’d love to see you try_.”


	4. The real stuff

Arthur does his best to ignore the twangy voice assailing him from afar, even as the hubbub of the locker rooms should have covered it. He buttons up his shirt, counts to ten and needlessly smooths the plains of cotton to settle his trembling hands. It’s no use. Randall is right in front of him when he turns around, sporting an infuriating air of malicious intent. Arthur knows why.

That big man is about to humiliate him _again. _

"Randall, what do you want ?", Arthur gruffs with a tired voice. He takes hold of his jacket then and puts it on with brisk movements.

"Don't be like that, Arthur. _Lighten up_ ! The boys and I will raid some bars tonight. Hey, are you in ?"

Arthur raises a skeptical brow. He's never been invited to this sort of stuff. Some part of him lights up at the idea of being included but he soon smothers the idea. He's promised to Gigi he'll help her finish her scale model for her geography class. A promise is a promise. And spending a pleasant evening with his girls is a better perspective than getting locked in one of those seedy bars his colleagues affectionate so much.

Randall clasps his arm around his shoulders then, so abruptly that Arthur almost wobbles.

"C'mon, my boy. It's gonna be a lot of fun", he insists. Arthur frowns at his sweet and sour breath, and looks around the room to see if anyone else is following their conversation. Their colleagues are either removing their facepaint, complaining about their meagre wages and snotty kids or ignoring the obvious "No smoking" sign to inhale some nicotine. The mix of paint, smoke and perspiration permeating the air almost burns Arthur's delicate nostrils. He crosses his arms. 

"I've got plans already."

Randall wiggles his brows.

"Let me guess, you're still on that Sophie bullshit ?"

Arthur stiffens. He shouldn't be surprised nor hurt that Randall doesn't believe he has a girlfriend but the wave of self awareness and shame hits all the same. Sophie and him have been dating for three months now and he's been swimming in a haze of endorphins ever since. The call back to reality is harsh. 

"Wh-_What do you mean_ ?"

The bigger man gives a long suffering sigh, and pulls Arthur into the corner, as if he needed to whisper him an aside. But his words are loud and clear, enough that the entire room must capture the moment.

"It's been going on for a while now. You can drop the act._ It's okay_."

Arthur swallows hard, and clenches his fists. In his mind, Randall's scarf has turned into a thick snake, suffocating him until his eyes revolve and he turns blue in the face.

Randall seems to notice the shift in his demeanor, the trembling in his frail frame, because he raises a brow and removes his chunky fingers from Arthur's shoulder.

"I mean...No-one has ever seen that girl with you. Look, I know loneliness can get to your head and meds are expensive but you don't need to fabricate yourself a girl. There's plenty of fish in the sea."

There's an uncomfortable silence. Arthur's head droops in spite of himself. 

Then comes Gary's voice, a little hesitating but as kind as usual:

"Leave him alone, Randall. I'm sure Arthur is saying the truth. He's not a liar."

Randall shifts, closes the two strides separating him from Gary and looks at him indifferently from his entire height.

"So you've seen them together ? Holding hands ?_ Kissing_ ?"

He makes abominable sucking noises at that, so much that Gary exchanges a sorry gaze with Arthur.

"No, no I didn't but-"

"Stop coddling him, Gary", Randall grumbles before turning his body sideways to watch Arthur, "Come with me tonight, my boy. I'll show you_ real women_", he tosses, deliberately blowing a long whistle before inching backward. 

Arthur clenches his jaw. He can't just let the bastard get away like that. So why can't he find the words ? _Why do they stay locked in his throat_ ? He should man up. He should roar instead of letting Randall trample on this beautiful thing he shares with Sophie. Why is he so weak ?

"Randall...", he breathes, too low for his colleague to catch the word.

Arthur inhales a sharp breath, shuts his eyes to gather some courage. And he conjures Sophie's face, her smart mouth and unapologetic laughs. 

"**Randall.**"

His eyes twitch and his palms turn sweaty. Randall stills in front of his locker, looks over his shoulder with a frown. The other boys perk up, not losing a single crumb of the conversation.

"I know a real woman", Arthur huffs.

His colleague snickers. "Do you ?"

"Ya. She's as real as it gets. Her name is Sophie Dumond. I _love_ her and she loves_ me _and she trusts me. She tells me stories. She laughs to my jokes, even when they're terrible."

Arthur lets out a watery chuckle but composes himself fast, brushing his nose.

"She loves **me**. She respects **_me_**. She sleeps in **my** arms and wakes up on **my** bed", he trails, punctuating each word with an inch forward, until he levels with Randall, eyes storming with determination. 

"I'm not lonely anymore, Randall. Because I have a home. Can you say the same for yourself ?"

There's a smirk on the giant's face, and he arches a defiant brow. Arthur knows he's not convinced still. He doesn't care. Actually, he feels sorry for that man. 

After throwing a last look to Randall, he grabs the carrier bag perched on the brittle bench nearby. Someone whistles. 

Arthur doesn't look back.

* * *

"_What's gotten into you, tonight_ ?", she sighs happily, her back laid flat on the bed. Gigi is already asleep, exhausted over two more hours of working on her school project and It's just the two of them owning the night now.

They indulge. Arthur runs his nose over her damp curls, licks a broad stripe up her slit until his mouth latches onto her clit. His grip on her thighs is almost aggressive. Sophie doesn't seem to mind. 

Her hands carve into his hair and she pulls on his strands hard. Arthur ramps up, flicking his tongue against her bundle of nerves until her toes curl in his peripheral vision. 

He _needs_ her like this tonight. Needs her broken cries and her panting breaths, her bucking against his jaw. So he devours her as best as he can, the way she taught him to when he needed lessons of tenderness.

Though Arthur is far from tender now. He wants to consume himself in her. Drown himself in her tangy and saccharine wetness until she drips from his chin and she's the only thing anyone can smell on him.

Arthur licks the sweet and suave taste off his lips, runs his hands over her calves then up to her belly, rolls her skirt up until it rests just beneath her heavy breasts.

"So good, Arthur..._Fuck_"

He grins against her skin at the expletive, and gently nibbles her thigh, hoisting her leg over his shoulder.

"Give me more, baby", Sophie whines, drawing on one strand so hard Arthur fears she's gonna turn him bald.

He shushes her, pulling away to unbutton his shirt under her fiery eyes, fingers shuddering with desire. 

This is real. All of it is real. Her gentle smiles, her teasing. Her broken gasp at his first glide inside, her thick thighs clutching his narrow hips, her sweet cries begging for more. 

This is the truth and Arthur loses himself in it.

* * *

Later, she takes a long drag beside him, as they lean over the balcony overlooking the city.

Petty crimes are probably happening underneath their noses but there's something about city lights and clear nights that make even their shabby neighborhood enjoyable.

Arthur inhales the cold night air. He knows he acted like a caveman earlier. Wasn't himself. He can barely handle Sophie's questioning gaze on him.

There's a soft hand caressing his naked back still. He bows his neck and gives a sad smile.

"I think you broke me", she teases before puffing some more smoke.

"Sorry", Arthur whispers.

"Don't be. I enjoyed myself _a lot", _she chuckles, nudging his elbow.

Arthur can't help himself then. His eyes roam her features as if to make sure the picture doesn't waver and everything is real.

As if to commit her face to memory lest she gets tired of him and Arthur gets lonesome again.


End file.
